Desiderium
by SweetWaterBaby
Summary: After the plane crash and all the events of Homecoming night, Peter is not okay. Spider-man Homecoming
1. Chapter 1

Peter woke up to flames, and smoke everywhere. The remains of the plane were either on fire, or still smoldering. He groaned as he tried to push himself up out of the sand, arms straining with the sudden weight. He blinked the grogginess out of his eyes, looking around for Toomes. As far as he could tell, all the crates and tech that Mr. Stark was transporting were still there, some of it he noticed was also on fire and he couldn't hold back a wince. If Mr. Stark didn't kill him for destroying his plane, he was definitely going to kill him for destroying his tech. Peter finally managed to push himself up into a sitting position and he took a second to breathe in.

This was insane, it was carnage and for a minute Peter thought he wasn't going to have a chance to get home before he broke down, because everywhere he looked something was on fire. He stumbled to his feet, and all of a sudden, his body exploded in pain. He gasped and looked down only to see his suit torn to hell. There were slashes everywhere, and burn marks splattered across the suit. He vaguely remembered webbing Toomes up, and when he looked over to where he remembered talking to him he saw the man passed out, but still webbed up.

For a minute Peter wished he were normal, wished that he would have turned a blind eye to the plan that the Vulture had. He wished that he could have gone into the dance and met up with Liz and danced like a teenager was supposed to do. He wished that he could have had fun with his friends and his date, and he briefly considered how his life would be like if he had never been bit by that spider. Things would be normal, but Peter shook his head to clear the thoughts from his brain because he couldn't change how things were. He couldn't change the fact that he had crashed a plane onto a beach. He couldn't change that his dates dad was a supervillain, and that he chased after him, leaving her in the middle of the dance floor. He couldn't change the fact that every time he took a breath in, his lungs burned and he thinks that it's probably because he had a building dropped on him and who knows what he breathed in, and who knows what he broke, or punctured. He couldn't change the fact that he survived a building being dropped on him and he couldn't change that he survived a plane crash when he was on the outside of the plane, but he wishes he could. May doesn't deserve a nephew who could have very well died. He wishes he could change things, but he can't.

Peter looks back up, a new energy fueling him that wasn't before. He takes a step forward, swallowing in pain as his entire body protests the one step, and steps again, and again, until he hits a steady walking pace instead of a limp. He's needs paper and a pen, and he has no clue where to find that in the wreckage, but he picks a box and starts looking. He finally comes up with a scrap of paper and a barely functioning pen and scrawls a quick note that he attaches to the crate behind the Vulture with some webbing and turns to walk away when he finally hears them. Sirens wail in the distance and they're getting closer, and closer and he can feel the wind on his face, so he knows he doesn't have his mask on, its somewhere on the beach. He remembers the Vulture ripped it off during their fight. He can't let the police see him without his mask, they can't seem to decide whether they hate him, but he's not too keen on figuring out where their loyalties are tonight. He walks back to where he thinks the fight between him and the Vulture started, and sees his mask by some crates, its ripped and charred like the rest of his suit, but it will still hide his face, and his goggles are still there, cracked in one lens, but also still functional.

He sighs as he changes out the fluid in his web shooters, hoping against hope that he will have enough to get him back home. He can hear the sirens getting closer and closer, and sighs again as he surveys the damage that is littered across the beach. This is all his fault, if he were quicker or smarter, he could have stopped this before it came to this or letting a supervillain get away with the advanced tech that Mr. Stark had on the plane. He can see the lights on the emergency vehicles now and swings up to the top of the coaster. Peter isn't quite ready to try and swing his way back to Queens right now, so he settles for watching the emergency crews try and put out the flames. He should be less shocked when Happy shows up, after all he remembers now that this must have been the moving day that Happy and Mr. Stark had been talking about. If he thought that he was in trouble before, it's nothing compared to the anxiety that radiates through his body when he sees Happy walk up to where he knows the Vulture is webbed up.

The wind through his hair is calming, it's not often he gets to be up high without a mask, and it feels like when May will card her fingers through his hair after an especially bad nightmare. He's finally getting himself calmed back down when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he lets out a noise of shock that his phone is even still working. He pulls it out of his pocket and almost drops it when he sees Happy's name pop up, clicking decline in a blind panic, and the anxiety comes back in full force when it immediately lights up with his name again.

Peter decides he's had enough time to rest, and he is thoroughly uncomfortable sitting so close to the wreckage. He pulls on his mask, lets out one more sigh at the sight of the beach and jumps, swinging his way home.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter loved the feeling of swinging through the city, especially at night. It brought a certain sense of freedom that he knew most other teenagers, hell most adults would never have. Ever since the spider bit him, he loved the feeling of being up high, loved having a height advantage, and now whenever he was on the ground, he felt like he was at a disadvantage. Swinging through the city after crashing a plane, and fighting his first major villain, that was less fun. Whenever Peter sent out a new web, the change in altitude pulled at his shoulders, and it felt like fire crawled up and down his arms, his stomach churning uncomfortably. It wasn't just his shoulders either, every swing pulled at the cuts littering his whole body, pulled at the puncture wounds from the Vultures talons, and he was now certain that he had broken several bones, there was no other explanation for the aching pain radiating from his ribs.

The journey between the beach where he crashed his plane, and the apartment felt like it took hours, and Peter had almost run out of fluid. The last few blocks were somehow filled with even more anxiety than the rest of the trip because he wasn't sure which swing would be his last and he knew for sure that he wouldn't make it home if he ran out of fluid. Swinging was taking a huge toll on his already broken body; he wasn't keen on walking a few blocks and seeing how he fared with that.

He could have cried when he saw the apartment, and he almost did when he remembered that May was working the night shift. His window was unlocked, and he crawled in slowly being careful not to jostle his injuries even more than he already had. He let himself collapse on the floor, ripping his ruined mask off his face and taking in a breath. The events of the night were finally catching up to him now that he knew he was in a safe place, his senses dialing back and the full brunt of his injuries coming to the surface. He was comfortable in his room, and for the first time that night he finally let the tears slip out and drip down his bruised cheeks. He was happy May was at work, and happy that Happy had stopped trying to call him. He didn't want anyone to see him like this; covered in blood, bruises and sand with tears falling steadily. He was supposed to be a superhero, and superheroes were supposed to be strong. He shouldn't be crying like this after facing his first villain but here he was, still in his ripped-up suit that smelled like ashes and blood crying on the floor. His eyes caught his mask that had landed on the floor just a few feet in front of him.

"Come on, Peter," he whispered to himself "come on Spider-man."

He could do this, he could get up off the floor, and he could take care of himself. He had done it before he met Mr. Stark and he had done it before he had gotten the fancy suit, so he could do it now. He twisted and grabbed onto his bed for support, pulling himself to his feet, out of breath already. He figured that sitting on the bed was better than laying on the floor, so he let himself catch his breath.

He looked down, staring mournfully at his suit. He knew that it looked like pajamas, and he knew that the vigilante of Queens should be swinging around in something a little more impressive, but he tended to focus on science and math, not sewing. He was still sad to see that the suit was damaged beyond what he could repair, it was his, he had made it, and it reminded him that he was a hero with or without Mr. Stark. And now it was ruined.

He shook his head, clearing the nostalgia from his head and focused on figuring out the best way to get the suit off. The blood that was covering a good portion of his torso had dried on the way home, and he knew that it was going to be hell to get it off. His first thought was to just rip it off like a band aid, but he knew if he did that, he would rip open the wounds and they would bleed like they had just happened. He wasn't sure how much blood he had lost, but he didn't think losing anymore would be good. He sighed and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling questioning how he had gotten to this point. He fisted the sheets on his bed in his hands and forced himself to stand.

He nearly fell on his ass as soon as he stood. Everything hurt and he just wanted to go to bed, but he knew that if he didn't take care of the injuries that they would get infected, the sand and ash from the beach had probably made its way into some of the cuts and he was not going to deal with the fallout from an infection.

Peter slowly made his way to the bathroom, each step aggravating the injuries further. The door to the bathroom was one of the most welcomed sights of the night. He swung it open, and flicked on the lights, groaning at the brightness, his senses going haywire again. He blinked the fuzz out of his eyes and sat on the edge of the tub. He reached over to turn the faucet on, grabbing a rag and wetting it under the faucet. He knew this was going to sting, but this was necessary if he wanted to get to sleep anytime soon. He pressed the rag against the rips in the suit where the cuts were, wetting the suit enough to unstick it from his body. The process was slow, and so painful, but eventually he got the suit unstuck, and gently peeled it from his body.

Some of the cuts were still leaking blood, but the puncture wounds were still bleeding freely. That made sense, they were much deeper than the cuts from the shrapnel of the plane and the Vultures wing-suit. He turned and got into the shower, the water turning red and brown as it pooled under his feet. Peter nearly screamed and his vision went white. When he came back to his senses, he was on his knees under the warm spray of the water. He knew he had to clean the wounds, knew that there was sand and soot in them, so he grabbed the soap, and the same rag, gently prodding at the cuts and punctures, biting his lip to keep from screaming.

When the water stopped pooling red under him, he turned off the water and dragged himself out of the tub, and onto the edge, breathing deep. He had known the wounds were going to be bad, but he hadn't stopped to think that he had almost died. Someone wanted to kill him, someone almost succeeded, and he knew that this wouldn't be the last time someone tried to kill him. A choked noise escaped his throat, and he felt tears flow down his cheeks again. He rubbed his hands against his eyes, and stood, muscles still sore and aching, but feeling a little better from the warm shower.

He reached under the sink and grabbed the first-aid kit that May had bought just in case. He grabbed the antiseptic, gauze pads, gauze and tape. This wasn't the first time that he had had to patch himself up, but this was certainly one of the worse set of injuries he had received. He rubbed antiseptic on the wounds, wincing with the stinging pain, and placed the gauze pads on the puncture wounds, knowing that the cuts would heal faster. He wrapped the gauze around most of his torso and tapped the end down. It wasn't his best job, but he was running on fumes at this point and all he wanted was to go to bed.

He returned the first-aid kit and grabbed the suit off the floor of the bathroom, and the rag from the bottom of the tub. He slowly made his way back to his room, trying not to aggravate anything. He threw his suit and rag under his bed, hiding it under some of his other clothes, which was as good as a hiding spot as he was going to get right now. He pulled on the loosest t-shirt he owned and his softest pajama pants, before crawling into bed. He pulled the covers up to his chest and let out a shaky breath.

He felt tears start falling again, this time not even trying to stop them.


	3. Chapter 3

Coming back into consciousness was not something that Peter ever thought would be hard. It was easy to wake up, to blink the grogginess away and just lay in bed and let himself wake up. Even with the nightmares that he frequently had as a result of the battle with the rouge Avengers, and some of his nastier patrols, it was still easy to wake up. Peter loved to wake up, not early like he had to do for school, he was still a teenager even if he did have superpowers but waking up without having a set alarm was his favorite thing to do. He loved to stretch out his muscles and listen to his joints pop in the morning.

Waking up after the Vulture was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. He slept fitfully, snapshots of the battle he had running through his brain, the Vultures screeching echoing in his mind until he finally gasped and woke up. His face felt tight and he remembered that he had fallen asleep crying the night before. He yawned, feeling his jaw pop, and went to stretch like he did every morning, forgetting briefly about the injuries that he had sustained the night before. He remembered far too late, his arms already raising above his head, and he nearly screamed, the only thing stopping him being that he knew May was probably asleep in her room. He bit down on his lip hard when he felt his shoulders burn, and the wounds from the Vultures talons stretching underneath the bandages.

Peter let his arms drop with a groan and wondered how long he could stay in bed until May got suspicious and came in to find him. Normally that would be fine except he knew that his room still smelled like ash and his brain was running far too slow to try and come up with an acceptable excuse. He breathed heavily, swinging his legs off the side of his bed, groaning with the effort it took. He wasn't used to being this sore, he hadn't been this sore since before the bite. Patrol didn't take too much energy and it wasn't often that he stumbled into something that would cause injuries. He was a friendly neighborhood Spider-man, he didn't usually crash planes in his free time, he was used to stopping muggings and small thefts.

He gingerly stood and shuffled over to his closet. He pulled a black sweater off a hanger and swiped a pair of sweatpants off the floor. He didn't plan on doing anything besides resting and eating and watching movies with May today. He swiped his phone from the bed and wandered off to the kitchen. He could hear the one of May's favorite shows running and he assumed she would be on the couch and he smiled when he saw that he was right. She was curled up on the couch eating a bowl of cereal in some comfy clothes and he felt a weight lift off him at how familiar and safe he felt. He leaned over the back of the couch and gently kissed Mays forehead, mumbling out a good morning before he continued his trek to the kitchen.

He grabbed a bowl and made himself some cereal, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl, and headed back to the living room to sit with May. The anxiety that Peter had felt waking up that morning was almost gone, the familiarity of his usual Saturday morning routine calming him.

He watched May change the channel to one that was playing movies and they settled in. May didn't have to work until around five so they usually spent Saturday mornings together, laughing at dumb movies, and snacking on popcorn or whatever else they could scavenge from the kitchen. Saturday mornings used to be the only time that Ben, May and him all had off and could just sit and be a family. Ben didn't work on Saturdays and May didn't work until later and there was no school, so they all crammed together on one couch and laughed and ate. It wasn't the same without Ben, but Peter wouldn't give up his Saturday mornings for anything.

He was curled up on the couch besides May, empty bowl on the table in front of them when he felt his phone vibrate. His heart jumped into his throat and he swallowed heavily as he glanced down at his phone. The screen was cracked more than it was before, but it was still working, but it almost wasn't when he saw that Happy was calling again and he almost crushed his phone. He clicked decline, and nearly threw his phone away from him before he cleared his head and sat it gently next to him. May would kill him if he broke another phone. He tried to ignore the steady buzzing of his phone, trying to focus on the movie and trying to calm his anxiety. He didn't know what Happy could want, didn't know if he wanted to yell at him for crashing the plane or thank him for saving what was on the plane, but he wasn't too keen on figuring out which was which.

After his phone buzzed a few more times, he let out a growl, grabbing his phone and flicking through the notifications. He had a few messages from Ned, asking if he was okay and he winced before responding telling Ned that he hadn't died, but it was a close call. He looked at the other notifications and felt his face turn white. He had almost fifty missed calls from Happy and ten messages, all asking him to just please pick up the phone so that Happy knew that he wasn't dead except for the last one where Happy told him that if he didn't answer by morning that he would be coming to the apartment to make sure he wasn't bleeding out in his room. He also had around thirty missed calls from an unknown number, and just one text reading _Kid please answer your phone._

He knew that the unknown number could only be one person and felt his heart rate raising and knew that if he didn't do something to calm himself down that he was going to have a panic attack and he wasn't going to do that in front of May. Happy was probably on his way and even if he messaged them both back, he knew that at this point it was hopeless. Happy was coming to get him and he assumed he was going to be taken to wherever Mr. Stark was. He went to stand up and right when he did, he heard a series of sharp knocks on the door. He was frozen as he watched May get up to answer the door and he knew there was no way to stop whatever was about to happen. He watched with fear as she opened the door followed immediately by shock and pride when May slapped Happy before the man could even speak.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter loved his aunt more than anything in the world. She was all he had left after Ben and he was going to protect her from whatever tried to hurt her, he had made that promise after everything happened with Ben. He had the ability and the power to stop things from hurting the person who was closest to his heart and he planned on doing everything to protect her even if it meant sacrificing himself to do so. He had grown up with his aunt preaching that women were just as strong as men and that there were plenty of badass women who lived in the world. He knew that women were able to protect themselves and that not every woman was a damsel in distress, but he had never seen his aunt display any kind of aggressive behavior, which is why he couldn't stop himself from letting out a short laugh before the reality of the situation hit him and he pressed his mouth into a thin line.

Logically he knew that Happy wasn't in the wrong, but he couldn't help the thrill of satisfaction that ran through him when he saw Happy's mouth drop open in shock at the fact that he had let his guard down enough to get hit, especially by May, who was quite a bit smaller than him. He knew that he was the only person to blame for the events that had occurred over the last few days, but it felt good to momentarily push the guilt and blame that had been weighing him down onto someone else. He was content to just stand, mouth pressed thin, but he saw May's hand twitch and begin to rise so he pushed himself forward.

"May! May stop, what are you doing?" He grabbed her hand, and lowered it down to her side, spinning her around. He looked at her and stumbled back at the look in her eyes. He had never seen May this mad before and he had done some stupid things in his life and had been lectured and yelled at by her more times that he would like to admit.

"Pete, baby, you lost your internship, and now he has the audacity to just show up?" She looked at him incredulously. "I'm not gonna let them hurt you again. It's been awhile since I've seen you that upset, and it's my job to keep you happy." She reached out and smoothed his hair down, resting her hand on his cheek.

He didn't know what he did in life to deserve May. She cared so much, especially when he had been so distant lately. He swallowed heavily and pulled her in to a hug. His eyes met Happy's over May's shoulder and the man looked uncomfortable to be intruding, still rubbing his cheek. He pulled back and smiled at her "I larb you so much," he choked out. His eyes felt wet, but he wasn't going to let himself cry, not in front of Happy.

"Oh honey, I larb you too!" She pulled him close to her and turned them, so they were facing Happy who cleared his throat. He knew that the man wanted to say something and opened his mouth to talk first, but May beat him to it.

"Now you listen here, I don't know what kind of dumbass stunt your boss is trying to pull, but you can go back to him and tell him that if he doesn't stay away from Peter, I will shove my foot so far up his-

"May!" he exclaimed, "It's okay! I want to hear what he has to say."

"Are you sure baby? I can make him leave." She shot Happy a glare that would've had Peter ducking in shame.

"I'm sure, let's just hear him out. If you still wanna kick him out after, you can." He noticed Happy shoot him a grateful look. He wasn't really angry with the man, more so just aggravated that he had interrupted his peaceful morning. He knew that Mr. Stark had probably forced Happy to drive all the way to Queens and he wasn't too keen on seeing what would happen if Happy went back with bad news. With his luck, Mr. Stark himself would show up next and there wasn't a thing in the world that Peter could do to save his mentor from his aunt's wrath if that happened.

"Mr. Stark would like to meet with Peter-

"Like hell I'm gonna let that-

"May! Let him finish," he whispered, "Please." Happy shot him another thankful look before continuing.

"He wants to discuss Mr. Parker's internship being reinstated. He said that he may have acted a little too rash."

He was stunned. He was expecting that Mr. Stark would want to meet, but not for that reason. He had expected to meet with his mentor and be disciplined and yelled at for crashing a plane. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't mentally prepared for a good outcome, not with the infamous Parker luck. He turned to May who looked just as shocked as he did. She turned to him and grabbed him by the shoulders. He had to hold back a whimper of pain as his aunt looked him in the eyes.

"Honey? What do you want to do? I know how much the internship meant to you, and even though I still want to smack that man silly, this is your decision and I'll support you no matter what."

He let out a little laugh and May smiled at him, brushing a piece of his hair behind his ear. He knew he didn't have a choice, not really. If he said no then May would make Happy leave without another word from the man, but if he said no, he knew that his mentor would show up anyways. At least this way he could save the man from being attacked by May for a little bit longer.

"When does he want to meet?"

"If you don't have anything to do right now, we can leave as soon as you're ready."

He had expected that answer, but he couldn't help the rush of air that escaped him. He was scared. He wasn't ready to face the music, but he was being backed into a corner. May saw the worry on his face and pulled him in for a hug.

"If you aren't ready right now, I'm sure we can set something up for another time baby."

"No, it'll be okay May. I'll go and get ready and we can go." He smiled at May before he turned and walked to his room, being careful to walk normally despite the pain that shot through him.

He closed the door behind him and closed his eyes, letting out a groan leaning back against the door. He was having such a peaceful day before Happy started calling and now anxiety was running through his body. He stood and grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor, changing slowly. The shirt would be fine, it was black, so if any of his injuries flared up it wouldn't be too noticeable. He swiped his headphones from his desk and took a deep breath before opening the door.

He walked back and saw that May had her arms crossed and was staring Happy down and a smile spread across his face. His aunt was a terrifying woman and the man looked uncomfortable and slightly scared, rocking on his feet. Happy's face broke out in relief when he noticed that he was back.

"I larb you May." He gently wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight before pulling back giving her a small smile.

"I larb you too honey. If you need anything call me."

"I will."

He walked out of the apartment, waving bye to May and started down the stairs. He heard Happy behind him and where he would normally try and start a conversation with the man, he walked in silence. Happy was parked where right in front of the building and he heard the man clear his throat when they were finally outside. He didn't want to talk to him, so he plugged his headphones in, slipping them in his ears before sliding into the back seat.

He leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. He was going to enjoy the ride because he had a feeling it was going to be the last little bit of peace he was going to get. He let out a breath and cursed his luck.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter knew that Happy was a good driver, he always missed potholes and bumps in the road, but he couldn't control what the other drivers were doing. Peter knew this, but he couldn't help the little whimpers of pain that slipped out of his mouth when Happy slammed on the breaks for what felt like the thousandth time because of the cars in front of them. He also couldn't help the stream of curses that ran through his mind as the seat-belt tightened around him, pushing and rubbing at his injuries. He saw Happy throw him concerned glances and schooled his expression. He didn't have any desire to talk to Mr. Stark about the injuries that he had received. He knew he was going to get a lecture just for going after the Vulture and he wasn't too keen on the lecture he would get if he let Mr. Stark know he was hurt.

He wondered why Mr. Stark even wanted to see him. He didn't need another lecture on how he had messed things up. The man had already taken his suit away and had made things very clear, so Mr. Stark didn't have any responsibility over him anymore. He knew he had messed up; he was trying to take on fights and people that were stronger and bigger than he was. He knew Mr. Stark only wanted to protect him and wanted him to stay away from things that he thought were too dangerous, but Peter knew himself better than Mr. Stark knew him. The only thing that his mentor knew about him was that he was spider-man. They didn't talk beyond the few times he had messed up, he mostly talked to Happy, or Happy's voicemail.

He thought about just taking a nap until they got to wherever it was that they were going, but he wasn't sure how long the trip would be. He also knew that Happy thought he was a hyperactive kid, so him falling asleep would probably just make the man worry more. Happy was still shooting him worried looks and he just wanted the man to stop. He knew that for some reason Happy and Mr. Stark were worried and wanted to get in contact with him, but he couldn't understand the reasoning. He knew that before he had gotten his suit taken away his mentor cared, but he wasn't sure Happy ever cared and he thought that after his suit was taken that they would both forget about him. He thought that he would go back to being the friendly neighborhood spider-man in a hoodie and sweats, swinging through the city with no one to report to. He thought that he would be free to make his own choices and pick his own battles. He thought that he would be free to decide what was too dangerous and what he could handle.

He wasn't so sure anymore. He was in Happy's car on the way to meet with Mr. Stark because he did what he thought he was allowed to do. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. He was going in circles, thinking the same things, and he didn't want to anymore. It was making his hands shake and he could feel his anxiety getting worse the longer he thought, so he turned up his music and closed his eyes, head bobbing in time with the song.

He felt the car roll to a stop and opened his eyes and sat up, eyes widening slightly. He hadn't known what the end destination was, but he didn't think it was at Mr. Starks new compound. The compound had been made for the Avengers and despite the situation he allowed himself a small smile before he opened the door and walked to the doors. Before he walked in, he turned and waited for Happy, tapping his foot anxiously, realizing that he had no idea where he was going. He saw the man tapping on his phone and almost yelled at the man to hurry up. This was probably the one and only time he was going to see the compound and he wanted to look at as much as he could before he had to face his ex-mentor.

He was still tapping his foot when Happy finally got to him and he saw a frown on the mans face. He stopped tapping his foot, realizing that the man was probably annoyed with him. Happy had to go all the way to Queens to pick him up and then drive all the way back; if he were Happy, he would be annoyed too. Happy waving a hand in front of his face broke him out of his thoughts. He looked up and the man gestured forward with his hands. Taking a deep breath in he turned and walked through the doors, eyes widening in shock at how crowded the building was. People were walking in every direction and he had never felt more overwhelmed. His senses were on the edge of going haywire on a normal day and with how high his anxiety had been for the last few days he was well on his way to a panic attack.

He felt himself get dragged to the right and everything stopped. He gripped the hand on his arm and was about to swing whoever was grabbing him into the nearest wall.

"Kid stop!" He whipped around and came face to face with his mentor. He was used to his mentor looking at him with looks of pride and disappointment, but he had never seen him look at him with fear and worry. He looked back to see who had grabbed him and saw Happy with his hands in the air, shock painted across his face.

"I… I'm so sorry. I don't k-know what happened." He looked between Happy and his mentor and thought about turning and running.

"It's okay kid, coming here for the first time is a bit overwhelming and that's comin from me" he said. "Tell you what, why don't we head on up to my personal floor, it's quieter up there." Peter felt his mentor clap a hand on his shoulder and start to steer him towards the elevator. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, letting the air rush out through gritted teeth. Between Happy dragging him by his arm and Mr. Stark's hand on his shoulder his shoulders and arms were throbbing. He saw his mentor shoot him a concerned look, but he ignored it, turning his head towards the elevator.

This was going to be a long trip and he was not looking forward to it.


	6. Chapter 6

He was nervous. He hadn't really spent too much time with his mentor, only talking to the man through phone calls or through Happy. He had been in the same space as the man only a handful of times which is why he felt his anxiety skyrocketing as they rode the elevator up. He had tucked himself into a corner of the elevator, arms curled around his middle as he tried to avoid his mentors questioning looks. He knew that the man had questions, he knew that his mentor probably had a whole lot of questions and he wanted to tap his foot anxiously, but he knew that would only make his mentor more suspicious.

He felt the elevator slow and his mind briefly flashed back to DC when his friends were stuck on the elevator, watching it slowly fall, feeling fear wash over him as he considered the fact that maybe he wouldn't be quick enough to stop it. He remembered crashing through the window at the last moment and hearing the screams of his classmates, of his friends. He remembered how his heart jumped into his throat when the elevator started falling again. He blinked, clearing his mind and looked up and saw that his mentor was standing outside, eyes twisted in confusion. He mumbled out a sorry as he scurried off the elevator.

He looked around and blinked in shock. He had thought his mentor would be taking him to a conference room or something like that, but as he looked around the room, he realized this floor had to be the avengers personal floor, the one where they all lived. The room was decorated with warmer colors and the furniture looked comfy, not uncomfortable like the chairs downstairs. He stumbled and somehow felt as his anxiety get even worse. He had accepted the lecture that he knew was coming, he did not accept the fact that he was on the Avengers personal floor. There were personal items strewn throughout the room and he felt wrong. He didn't deserve to be on the floor. Mr. Stark was right telling him that he didn't deserve the truth. It had taken yet another fuck up on his part for him to finally understand that.

He felt his hands start shaking as he thought about how out of place he was. He was a kid playing at being superhero who had lashed out and disobeyed direct orders to just stay out of things that he was too young for, and what had he caused? Nothing but damage. He may have caught the bad guy but at what cost. He looked up as his mentor came back in the room, cursing himself for zoning out so much that he hadn't noticed that the man had even left. He was holding to glasses, filled with ice water and he felt his throat constrict, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was. He watched as the man sat the glasses on the table before taking a seat.

He started walking towards his mentor and let himself drop into a seat as far away from the man that he could find. He folded in hands in his lap, trying to control the shaking, knowing it would only raise questions and cautiously looked up, facing his mentor directly for the first time since he had gotten here. He watched as his mentors face went from calm and relaxed to completely serious in the blink of an eye and almost bolted from the room. While he was being an unruly child he might as well run away like one too, but he chased the thought from his mind, he was done running from his problems. He took in a breath and braced himself.

"I was wrong".

Peter felt his mouth drop in shock and snapped in close quickly. He subtly pinched himself to make sure he was dreaming. He winced in pain and opened his mouth again ready to speak when his mentor held up a hand.

"Not yet Pete, I have a whole speech planned. I was wrong to take away the suit. I just, I see so much of myself in you and I keep saying that I want you to be better but the truth is, you already are" he cleared his throat before continuing, "I mean at your age I was, no lets not get into me at your age."

"I'm the first to admit that I am bad at talking about how I feel but you deserve more than a mentor who is that closed off. My mentor was my father and he never complimented me; he never saw me as more than a nuisance. I learned how to interact with people from him and its not something I'm proud of. I want to do better by you, so I'm doing something that my father never did for me.

"I'm so proud of you kid. What you did, god, what you did was amazing. You stopped a very dangerous man on your own, in your own suit and I have never been prouder. If anyone deserves to be a superhero, if anyone in the world deserves to wear that suit it's you."

Peter felt like his brain was shorting out. He didn't understand what had just happened. He didn't deserve the things that his mentor had just blurted, and he didn't know what was expected of him. He didn't know what to say so he just whispered out a barely audible thank you eyes watering as he looked up at his mentor, stress bleeding out of his body. He didn't realize how scared of this confrontation he had been until it was over. He reached to the table and grabbed a glass of water, gulping some down.

"I want you to tell me about the fight. From the beginning." Peter had spoken too soon. He almost choked on the water, swallowing harshly as he felt his anxiety flare back up ten times as bad and he froze.

"Peter?"

Everything sounded like it was coming from behind a waterfall.

"Pete?"

He wanted to throw up or run or scream or hide or-

"Kid? Please talk to me. What happened?" He reached out and gently placed his hand on his kids arm.

Peter couldn't do it. He couldn't talk about what happened. All the nice things that his mentor had just said would be taken back and the real lecture would begin, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, could think.

He distantly heard the sound of glass shattering and thought that he should be worried about that but instead he launched to his feet and did what he knew how to do best.

He ran.


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't know where he was going. His mind was still full of a million different thoughts, all fighting to be heard and he couldn't focus. One thought would rush to the front and would swirl away before he could understand what his brain was trying to tell him, replaced in seconds by another screaming thought. He didn't have a destination in mind he just wanted out, he wanted to keep running until he couldn't hear the thoughts raging in his mind.

He knew that his mentor meant well, and he swallowed down the guilt that was bubbling its way to the surface as he thought about what he had done. Tony Stark didn't open up to just anyone, didn't spill his emotions out for just anyone to see, didn't tell people the things that he had told him, and he had run. He knew that when he inevitably had to face his mentor again, he wouldn't be able to look at the man. He knew that his mentor wouldn't see it the same way he was seeing it. He saw it as breaking the man's trust, which he had only just got back.

He chased the guilt from his mind and turned, following the twisting path of the corridor. He looked around as he saw that he was coming to a dead end with wide-eyed panic and saw a door that led to stairs. He felt his heart thumping erratically in his chest, injuries and muscles throbbing with the effort it took to run. He could barely stand, and his panic was forcing him to run, injuries be dammed.

He swung the door open, flinching at the loud bang it made when it hit the wall and started running again. He wanted to go up, wanted to be as high as he could possibly be. He had never been fond of high places before he had been bitten, but after, all he wanted was to have a high vantage point. He assumed that whatever spider had bit him liked to spin its webs high up because whenever he was high, the usual anxiety that he felt went away. Being high in the air instantly calmed his nerves and allowed him the peace of mind to think.

He was wheezing by the time he got to the top of the stairs and took a moment to try and catch his breath before opening the door. The wind caught the door and swung it open and as soon as he felt the wind and saw just how high he was, the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind began to slow. The constant thrumming of a too fast heartbeat slowed as he walked forward.

Now that his anxiety was slowing, he could feel how bad the injuries were. He must have torn open some of the cuts because they hadn't been stinging that bad when he had arrived at the compound. With every breath he took, he could feel the protest from his ribs, which should have healed overnight, but hadn't. His shoulders screamed with every step he took, and he knew that he was in trouble. His injuries had never taken this long to heal before, and he was scared. Ever since he had become Spider-man he had never felt the injuries for long after a fight.

He slowly made his way to the ledge of the roof and gently sat down, legs hanging over the edge as he looked out at the property. He clenched his hands into fists and almost screamed when his fingers dug into fresh cuts. He uncurled his hands and blinked in shock as he saw deep cuts in his palm that were bleeding freely, bits of glass still stuck in the wounds. He pressed his hand against his shirt to try and stop the -bleeding, flinching when he felt how wet his shirt was. He numbly thought that he must have gripped the glass of water too hard. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing, the wind catching in his hair.

He knew that he had overreacted. He knew that he would have to find his mentor and apologize. He knew that when he did find his mentor, he would be forced to explain what had happened in the fight, and he knew that his mentor would be upset with him. He had almost gotten himself killed and that was something he knew that his mentor was scared of. He knew that Mr. Stark was responsible for him, he knew that the man had claimed responsibility over his actions as soon as the man gave him the suit. The suit screamed Tony Stark and he knew that anyone who had watched his fights since he got the new suit could tell that he was involved with Tony Stark.

He let out a sigh at just how much trouble he had caused the man and resolved himself to standing and going back inside to find his mentor when a thought struck him. He didn't know where he was in the building. He didn't know where he had run, he didn't know what path he took to even begin trying to find his way back to the room where they were talking. He let out a groan and tipped his head back in frustration.

"You're fast kid, I'll give you that."

He whipped his head around, nearly slipping off the roof in shock before he managed to catch himself.

"I tried to follow you at first, but I gave up on that pretty quick when I turned the corner you had just went down and you were already gone." He walked to the ledge and sat down. "I had Friday track you. I waited for a few minutes after she said you'd stopped moving before making my way up here. It makes sense that you came up here though, spiders like a good tall hiding spot."

Peter managed a weak smile and a chuckle, sneaking a look at his mentor. The man was looking down at him, eyes sad, but with a small smile.

"I, I'm so sorry Mr. Stark." His voice was weak, and the words that he wanted to sound strong came out raspy and small. "I overreacted. I shouldn't have run, especially after what you said. I know that you don't usually let people see how much you care, and I get that, more than anyone. If you show you care, those you care about get hurt. I shouldn't have run. I was trying to show you and Happy that I was strong enough to deal with the big leagues and every time I have the opportunity to show you guys that I can be an adult, I act like a kid."

He looked at his mentor, tears forming in his eyes when the man suddenly reached forward and pulled him into a tight hug. He let out a choked sob and the man tightened his grip.

"Oh kiddo, you didn't do anything wrong. You're young and I asked a lot of you. I know that after some fights I've had, there was nothing I wanted more than to forget about it. You know, I still haven't told anyone the full extent of what I went through in Afghanistan? There's some parts of my time there that I never want anyone to know. It was wrong of me to ask you to tell me everything."

His mentor pulled back and looked at him, smiling gently.

"I know we're having a tender moment here, but please never call me Mr. Stark again. I think I aged ten years when you said that."

Peter couldn't help the snort that escaped him, or the almost manic laughter that bubbled up out of him. He saw his mentor- Tony his mind corrected- smile and laugh with him. Tony ruffled his hair before standing.

"Alright kiddo, up and up and at 'em."

"Where are we going Mr. Sta-, I mean Tony?"

"Your shirt is soaked and covered in blood. You're gonna change, then if you're feeling up to it, you can tell me a little about the fight, only what you wanna tell me though. After that we're going to the med bay because I wanna get your hand looked at."

He watched his mentor walk towards the stairs and stood up to follow.

It took them ten minutes to get back to the room where they originally talked, and he sat on the couch while Tony walked to get him a shirt. He still felt his injuries throbbing but ignored the pain. His anxiety wasn't as bad as it was before, but it was worse than it was on the roof. He was more anxious about the trip to the med bay than the conversation he was about to have with his mentor. The talk on the roof had calmed his nerves about that.

He looked up as he saw Tony walk back in the room carrying a grey shirt emblazoned with the MIT logo. It looked small and he assumed it was from when his mentor was going to school. He caught it when his mentor threw it at him and walked to the bathroom he spotted on their walk to the room. He peeled off his soaked shirt and balled it up placing it gently on the sink before swiftly pulling on the shirt he was loaned.

He walked back to the room where he saw a plastic cup of water sitting on the table and let out a snort. He sat and took a drink of water before setting it back on the table. He opened his mouth to start from the beginning, planning on omitting the parts where the building fell on him, and the part where Toomes cut him to hell when he saw Tony frown.

He looked down and almost smacked himself. The shirt Tony had given him was grey. Light grey. The bright red blood stood out like a beacon, and he was shocked at how much blood there was. He watched the blood blossom out from where he knew the wounds were and stood on shaky feet. He opened his mouth to explain when he felt himself fall forward.

He felt his mentor catch him and heard Tony shouting for Friday to notify the med bay before asking her to do a full body scan before his eyes rolled back and his vision went dark.


	8. Chapter 8

Everything kept fading in and out. He was trying to keep his eyes open, but they kept falling closed every time he opened them again. He saw things in flashes; Tony shouting up at the ceiling, Tony looking at something straight ahead, a med team to his left and a panicking Tony directly above him. He felt his body being lifted and he heard someone screaming and he kept trying to figure out who it was before realizing he was the one screaming. When the med team placed him on the gurney, he whimpered and flinched when he felt someone grab his hand before everything went dark again.

It was dark and there was a beep that sounding like a blaring alarm to his overly sensitive ears. He tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy. He couldn't see anything, but he could feel everything. He felt so sensitive. He felt a needle poked in the crook of his elbow. He felt an oxygen tube in his nose that was restricting his breathing more than it was helping. He felt everything and yet as he reached a hand up, he felt like he was moving so slow. He heard the beeping get louder and he panicked, yanking the needle out from his elbow. He heard an alarm blare and tried to grab at his ears to help block out the sound but before he could he felt people grabbing at his arms, trying to pin him down.

He couldn't do it. There was too much happening, too many sounds, too much antiseptic in the room, too many people, too many wires. It was all just too much. He shoved at the person holding his left arm and kicked out with his feet. He felt his feet connect with something before he felt a sharp pinch in his arm.

He heard screaming again before he slipped away again.

He woke to a steady beeping at a much lower volume. The sharp smell of antiseptic burned his nostrils and he frowned, turning his head to the side, or trying to. When he turned his head, he felt wires pull painfully. He frowned again, groaning before slowly reaching a hand up to pull at the wires. He was stopped by a gentle hand on his wrist.

"Slow down there Spiderling."

He twisted his head towards the sound of his mentor, slowly cracking open his eyes. He blinked in the dim room and looked around him. He was connected to so many machines and wires. He swallowed heavily before facing his mentor. He opened his mouth to try and say something, anything to wipe the forlorn expression off of Tony's face, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he started coughing. A plastic glass was shoved into his hand that he belatedly noticed was bandaged before he took a drink. He opened his mouth again but was stopped by Tony raising his hand.

"This is the part where you zip it, kiddo."

Peter winced in memory of the last time he heard those words before his mentor started talking again.

"I know that the last time I said those words, things didn't end so well, but this is different. The last time I said those words, I admit, I was wrong. I stand by what I told you yesterday."

Peter coughed before cutting what the man was about to say next off, "Yesterday! Oh man, Aunt May is going to kill me. Aunt May is going to kill you, oh man and Happy. Oh god, Mr. Stark, we're all gonna die."

He stopped rambling as he saw a small smile on the man's face.

"Relax Pete, I let her know that we got a little carried away in the lab. I told her you were staying here tonight and spending today here before I sent you back to her. I gotta be honest with you though, she has one hell of a temper." His mentor let a small smile slip and he couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled up out of him.

"Now that we sorted that out, I stand by what I said yesterday. If anyone deserves to wear that suit, it's you. I was wrong to lecture you the way I did after the ferry accident. I should have talked to you, if I would have talked to you from the beginning the ferry accident wouldn't have even happened. If I would have let you know that I heard you, that I listened to you, everything would have been fine. I should have talked to you about how to handle a situation like that if a situation like that were to ever happen again, but I didn't."

He saw his mentor take a deep breath in before continuing.

"I forget sometimes how young you really are. All the superheroes that you hear about, that I had ever heard about before you were at least in their twenties. I forget that you, god you, you've got your whole life ahead of you, you're only fifteen, so after the ferry incident, that was the first time I guess, that I really saw how young you are. I looked at you after that all happened, and I saw myself. I saw a younger version of myself and I panicked because all I have ever wanted for you is for you to be better. I saw you; I really saw you for the first time as a scared kid, a kid who needs some guidance. You need a mentor and instead of helping you understand how to be better, I turned to what my father used to do to discipline me. I yelled and I punished without listening."

His mentor sat up in the chair and looked him in the eyes before he spoke again.

"I accept what I did wrong, and I am going to do my best to change and be better for you, but kiddo, you messed up too. I need you to understand that. I can accept that you're ready to face something a little bit bigger than helping little old ladies, but if you do that, you need to accept that you still need a little help too."

He tried to sit up slightly and went to interrupt, but he was stopped once again.

"Not yet kiddo, I've got a whole lot more to say and this time you aren't going anywhere so you're gonna lay there and listen, okay?"

He nodded before sliding back down in the bed.

"I've watched you since you first started. Since those first videos started popping up online, I was watching. I know you Pete, I know that you like looking out for the little guy and I respect that, but you have to think of it like this kid. In the superhero world, you're the little guy. You're the youngest of all of us, you're the future of the superhero world Pete, and one day I won't be around saving the world anymore, it'll be you, doing what I do, leading the way, saving the world. You can't do that if you die at fifteen because you won't accept help."

Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't believe what he was seeing either. His mentor was taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself before he continued, and it was his fault. He felt guilt well up inside him and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You could have died. You should have died. You, god you, Pete. You scared me kiddo. I watched the blood spread out through that shirt, and god that was so much blood. I watched you fall. I watched your eyes roll back and I didn't think that the medic would get here fast enough because as soon as you fell, I had Friday do a scan on you and kid she gave me a book. Let's go through it shall we?"

He winced as he thought about the injuries that he knew about, let alone what else might've been wrong.

"You had six, six kid, puncture wounds. So many cuts that Friday didn't even give me a number which she usually does, multiple contusions, several broken ribs, a severely dislocated shoulder, you managed to bruise your kidney, there was gravel and dust in your lungs. That's not even all of it, but I can imagine you get the picture kiddo. You should have been dead. Why didn't you tell me, hell why didn't you tell Happy? You were dying, and you didn't tell anyone."

His mentor shook his head before standing and pacing.

"I trust you kid; I trust you so much. I know that you can do amazing things, I know that you can take on more than I've been willing to let you deal with, but if I'm going to mentor you, which I want to continue to do, I want to be more involved. You need to communicate with me, and I need to communicate with you. You need to tell me the good things and the bad things. I need to tell you when you've done well and when you've screwed the pooch. I see so much for your future Pete, but you've gotta trust me, or if not me someone, because if you don't take care of yourself, it's going to be a future without Peter Parker in it. I'm gonna be honest kid, that's not a future I'm interested in."

He felt his eyes well with tears before he started talking.

"I trust you Mr. Stark, I trust you. I know that I need to tell someone about the things that happen to me because I don't wanna leave May alone. I can't leave her alone, I just can't. I can't give up Spider-man, but I can't leave May alone. I want your help; I want to tell you about the bad things."

"Then let's talk about the fight kiddo, I'm all ears. No yelling, no lectures. Let's talk."


End file.
